Yet Another Soirée
by Kat Musoe
Summary: A name Fenris recognizes from his past pops up in the mail and Hawke (and company) decide, once again, to attend an Orlesian party to get some answers. Things go significantly awry. Given Hawke's luck, it's mostly expected. Mid DA2, FenrisxFemHawke. DLC & DA2 spoilers.
1. The Invitation

**CHAPTER ONE  
** ( Orlesians, Here We Go Again )

Like all nights in the Hawke estate, the slow hum of the city nightlife outside flowed in through the open window along with a refreshingly crisp breeze.

Hawke shifted against Fenris in bed as she continued to flip through the mail. Since she'd dueled the Arishok and saved the city the stream of solicitation via mail was never ending. Hawke frowned, tossing letters aside as she went through the pile of at least ten. Normally this was something she did at her desk but at the behest of her broody elf boyfriend she'd agreed to pretend to relax in bed. At least the proximity to Fenris and the reassuring press of his body against hers could be considered relaxing even if the mail sorting could not.

"Junk, petition to fund a new clothing line, more junk, some man is selling 'potency' potions, annnnd junk," Hawke huffed, picking up the other half of the pile as her loose ponytail shifted over her shoulder, "another party, junk, junk, oh look yet another party this one is from a different sender. What an unusual name for an Orlesian."

Fenris played with the loose strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail.

"Duchess richess de coincé?" the white-haired elf quirked his eyebrow playfully, drawing a grin from Hawke.

"Fenris, I had no idea you spoke Orlesian!" she joked.

"Enough to get by yes but don't ask me to write or read it," the elf pulled her closer and Hawke flipped the letter over.

"It's actually Vist, far too short to be Orlesian and yet they've got a title. Marquis apparently," Hawke rolled her eyes and was about to fling the invitation into the reject pile sitting on the stone floor below but Fenris reached for it first.

"That name... it can't be the same person that I'm thinking of," Fenris slid a finger under the envelope end and broke the seal.

As he unfolded the invitation and attempted to read it Hawke marveled at how different he looked out of the spiky armor he usually adorned. He was a whole different person really. Initially she'd thought the lyrium markings were mainly on his hands, neck, and feet but apparently his master had spared no ounce of flesh. Hawke would never admit this to Isabela though, as it was a tempting answer she frequently dangled in front of the pirate.

When Hawke realized that Fenris was having trouble reading the invite she snatched it from him, playing it off so as not to hurt his feelings.

"I thought you were supposed to be relaxing," she teased then flipped the now-wrinkled paper over to read the contents.

"As were you, what does it say?" Fenris pressed.

Hawke shot him a mischievous look, more of her auburn hair spilling out from its ponytail prison as she did so. She was still wearing the housecoat Leandra had insisted she wear but it was about time it came off. Most of the noble traditions her mother had followed as an Amell were lost to Hawke who had never grown up with such nonsense. Even though Leandra was gone the habit had, unfortunately, stuck.

All the mail had been 'sorted' into a sloppy pile on the floor she fully intended to throw into the fire to keep them warm.

"What's it worth?" her eyebrow was quirked and she tried her best at a seductive face but noticed Fenris really wasn't into it. Quiet unusual.

She sighed, a faint smile on her face, and then sat up to read the letter out loud.

"Marquis Vist welcomes his esteemed guests to attend a grand soiree at Chateau Des Mons. Well at least his mansion sounds Orlesian," Hawke smiled, "why the sudden interest? Thinking about taking up a new social hobby or something? If that's the case I think you might stick out."

This comment drew a light laugh from the usually broody elf.

"You would too, for different reasons. I recognize the name, Vist. He was a _soparati_ that helped me flee to Kirkwall after I escaped Danarius. It's unlikely this is the same Vist," Fenris looked away for a moment, thinking as he gazed into the crackling hearth besides them.

Soparati, a non mage in Tevinter. Many aided the never ending war efforts against the Qunari so the story wasn't that unusual. Most joined the army or served as merchants.

Hawke thought for a moment as well. Fenris's past wasn't really a good subject for any conversation but she'd been trying hard enough to get him to talk about what little he remembered. Maybe reconnecting with an old friend, or the idea of reconnecting with an old friend, would be good for him. Not to mention despite Leandra's departure from this world Hawke still heard her words clear as day: Hawke had promised to attend at least two grand parties a year to save face.

"Why not? I think it would be good to get away from the despair and oppression of Kirkwall. We can take our friends and make it a grand old affair. I'm sure the Marquis will love an apostate elf, a dwarf, the openly apostate champion of Kirkwall, and her broody elf manservant!" there was a sly provocation to her words that provoked a snort from Fenris.

"If this party turns out to be anything like Duke Prosper's party I think we'd be better off spending a night at the Hanged Man," the snowy-haired elf gave her his best playful expression, "also elf manservant? Again?"

Smiling, Hawke leaned over and placed the invite on her bedside table then swung her leg over Fenris, turning to face him. There had been enough serious conversation and with the mail sorted all that was left was to go to sleep or do other things.

"You don't exactly blend in you know," she teased, tracing the lyrium lines on Fenris's bare chest.

Fenris ran his hands down her curves, settling them just above her hips.

"Neither do you," he grinned and then pulled her close.

* * *

"Last time I went to an Orlesian party with you we ended up helping a Qunari spy, almost became wyvern food TWICE, and murdered a duke so you'll have to forgive my concerns about attending another one," Varric objected from his chair.

Hawke grinned as she leaned against the wall, arms crossed politely in front of her.

"You loved it. Besides this one's only a marquis so I doubt his party will be the grand affair that Duke Prosper held. I mean at the very least there will be fewer wyverns?" she offered, shrugged her shoulders in what was supposed to be a reassuring gesture.

The dwarf shook his head, laughing.

"Hawke, trouble frequents you like Gamlen frequents the Blooming Rose," he sighed, a hint of amusement accompanying the gesture, "but we both know without my battle prowess you'd be dead by now so consider me in."

"I knew you couldn't resist another dashing escapade with your favorite human," Hawke shot him a toothy grin before motioning to a passing worker to grab them a round of drinks. It was amazing how they frequented the hall around Varric's small suite, eager for both tales and additional coin.

As she settled into a seat at the table bronzed fingers came to rest around her shoulder, the owner leaned into her as ebony locks spilled forth from her blue sash.

"Now what's this I'm hearing about a party you're not inviting me to?" Isabela pouted, a sly expression on her face.

Hawke didn't flinch under her friend's touchy gesture, resting her lightly-armored fingers on the table instead of using them to ply the unwanted hand off. She'd left her staff by the door but she didn't really need it to send the smallest of electricity over her shoulder as the mage called Isabela's bluff. The pirate pulled her hand back, shooting Hawke a playful expression.

"You know I love it when you do that," she purred but Hawke just let out a content sigh. Leave it up to Isabela to enjoy something meant to ward her off.

"Why else would I do it?" she joked, Isabela had always been a huge flirt and she'd learned from the start that fighting it only led to more provocations. Several conversations Isabela had shared with Aveline were brought to her mind, each causing a small chuckle at the thought of what had transpired between the two. Nope, it was much better to just embrace flirting when it came to the sensual pirate.

Thankfully it had been quickly established between Hawke and Fenris that this flirting was in the sake of self-preservation of dignity and the prevention of further harassment. Isabela could be absolutely ruthless when she wanted something but she was always respectful of relationship boundaries. It was Varric who spoke up first.

"Hey, hey, this is my office we're talking about here," the dwarve slipped the worker a coin as she placed two mugs in front of Hawke and Varric.

Isabela didn't wait for Hawke to grab her mug but instead wrapped her fingers around the handle and took a good swig.

"So why did I hear about this from Merrill? Any Orlesian noble would just die to have such a delicious looking woman on their arm for the evening," she took another swig, "We could pretend we're together and be the scandal of the party. The champion of Kirkwall and her pirate mistress!"

Varric rubbed his forehead while Hawke just laughed.

"True. I would enjoy causing a stir but that's not the point. You promised to lay low after the Quanri incident. A lot of people are still blaming you for the whole Qunari-stuck-here-for-years thing you know," Hawke chastised, taking her drink back from the pirate's grips and forcing a sip. It was awful but it was the kind of swill she'd gotten used to. Wine, however, was another story completely.

Besides her Isabela visibly deflated. But just as quickly as she had sunk she sprung back to life, gesturing enthusiastically with her hands over the table at them.

"I could go in disguise! Your dashingly masked yet deliciously busty woman-servant. Don't Orlesians like to wear masks to their social events anyways?" she asked, somewhat hopeful but also on the verge of falling into another one of her unrealistic daydreams.

Hawke laughed, pushing the mug back to Isabela who accepted it readily by downing the majority of its contents then shaking her head against the punch of liquor it offered.

"Rivaini, as much as I'd love to see that sort of scandal, I'm going to have to side with Hawke on this one," Varric shook his head with a laugh.

"Also, this isn't an estate that's in central Orlais so I doubt they'd be wearing masks," Hawke pointed out, "just so you know."

Isabela let out a defeated sigh.

"You're always trying to ruin my fun Hawke," she fake-pouted, leaning back into Hawke's non-armored shoulder, "can't I get a consolation prize?"

If the mage was uncomfortable with the proximity she didn't let it show, fingers still resting on the table a she tried her best at a poker face.

"I bet you still want to know how far Fenris's tattoos go..." she started, taking the drink back from Isabela and having a dramatic sip. The pirate woman was now awash with interest and retracted her touch from Hawke, leaning forwards on the table and shooting her a serious expression.

"You would never tell me!" she challenged.

Hawke's expression broke into a smile. Poker face fail. Hawke stood up, grabbing her staff and then paused in the doorway, taking another try at a serious expression. As she replied back her lips cracked into a teasing expression.

"With an attitude like that? No way. I'll catch you two later," she grinned and left the room.

Behind her Isabela shook her head and waved a worker down for another drink.

"She's the biggest dick-tease I've ever known," she muttered with a smile, setting her hands down on the table before her as Hawke walked downstairs.

Even just a year before there would be no way Hawke could walk so confidently out of the Hanged Man and into the streets of Kirkwall with a staff strapped to her back but now nobody questioned her or her companions for that matter. It probably drove the Knight Commander mad to know that certain apostates roamed the streets so openly but she would just have to deal with it. Even the Knight Commander couldn't get away with arresting the Champion of Kirkwall.

Fenris met her outside, arms crossed while propped against the wall.

"I'm guessing Isabela found you guys?" he asked, standing beside her. With the full ensemble of spike-armor, large broadsword, and serious expression Hawke couldn't imagine how other people didn't find him intimidating. Usually Fenris stayed inside until the less-busy times of day given his conspicuous appearance but there was always an exception to this when he was traveling with Hawke.

"Of course. I let her down gently," Hawke laughed lightly at the idea.

The elf offered a small smile, a little more at ease when away from the prying eyes of their companions. Just to the left of them someone was yelling loudly trying to sell their wares but Hawke had learned to tune it out by now. Oddly enough it felt good to have something to look forward to that wasn't playing parent to Kirkwall or chasing murderers or thieves through the city streets.

"We best be off then," Fenris nodded, patting her lightly on the shoulder before the pair headed back to the Hawke estate to prepare for their journey.


	2. Pleasantries

**CHAPTER TWO  
** ( The Real Host )

"And we what, just eat them? But they're so adorable! Oh Hawke, which one will I choose?" Merrill exclaimed, one hand holding the plate of mini-cakes, the other hovering over a pastel-blue one.

So far the trip to Marquis Vist's secluded and supposedly secondary mansion in the Free Marches was incredibly uneventful. The four had arrived at the mansion, been introduced formally, and now 'mingled' among the elite guests. After chatting up several of the nobles present Hawke and group had come to the conclusion that nobody knew this marquis individual, at least out of those in attendance.

As Varric explained it wasn't uncommon in Orlesian cultures for new-money nobles to host a grand 'coming out rich' party. This language had elicited a couple of giddy giggles from both women and a head shake from Fenris who was beginning to think this was a grand waste of their time. The Vist he'd known wasn't into these power displays so now it was just a joke gone awry.

But there was no turning back now so the group had resolved themselves to just simply endure it.

The marquis had yet to make an appearance, leaving his mysterious rise to power under the scrutiny of a dozen wagging tongues. Only an hour in he had been deemed the bastard son of the Empress Celine, a chevalier come into money, and a Ferelden noble sent to spy on the Orlesian social circles. Hawke was still deciding which of these she liked better.

Merrill had opted to wear traditional servant garb consisting of a neutral-tone fabric that was both functional and fashionable. While Hawke regretted having to play two of her companions off as servants due to being elves, she had spared no expense on the silken fabric of Merrill's overcoat to the point where it almost shimmered more than the flashy noble dresses.

Hawke had settled for a shorter dress with simplistic silver embroidering and was severely regretting it. Dresses had never really been her thing. Still it was amusing to see both Fenris and Varric in fineries. None of them really fit in here but that was the beauty of it. She plucked one of the mini-cakes from the plate Merrill was holding and swallowed it hole in a very unladylike manner.

"There, now you don't have a choice. Please eat the other one before I do and regret it," Hawke pleaded, "I'm already stuffed from those odd olive cheese things."

Across the courtyard Varric shot Hawke waggle brows then pointed his eyes in the direction of a more inebriated guest that was making a fool of themselves. Hawke smiled wickedly then watched as Merrill picked at the mini cake.

"Oh these are heavenly! I wonder if I could make something similar for our weekly dinners," she mused out loud. Hawke took a sip from her wine glass as the produced a forced smile as two nobles looked her way.

"Only if you want to take a loan out from Varric, I'm betting those were two gold a piece," she rested her lips on the wine glass just in time to avoid being dragged into a nearby conversation but didn't bother to sip it. Hawke had already subjected herself to a glass already.

Merrill's eyes widened and she looked down at the plate in near horror.

"My goodness that's expensive. Should I not have eaten it? " one of the nearby servants took the now-empty plate from Merrill.

"Nah. That's just Orlesian customs for you. Plenty of flair, drama, and expensive oddities. I am not looking forward to the main course considering the direction it's been headed in," Hawke confessed.

Why had she promised her mother she'd attend these sorts of things? Or pushed Fenris into attending? Bright eyes combed the crowd for her broody elf and found him amidst a crowd of fawning noble women. Varric was leading the conversation of course. Hawke nodded that Merrill should follow her and the duo made their way through the modest crowd.

"And I shit you not, there Hawke was surrounded by Qunari with nothing but a broken sword and this guy here," Varric chimed and several of the ladies leaned in anticipatorily, "one of them throws a spear, knocking the sword clean out of her hand but instead of falling she grabs the spear and-"

"Varric," Hawke interrupted, the slight twitch of her eyebrow betraying her true thoughts to only those closest to her.

The dwarf shot her an amused expression. Hawke already had enough of his tall tales chasing her around like shadows and this was no different. But she hadn't come here to interrupt the scene or deflate another of Varric's tall tales. One of the women had gotten a little too close at Fenris and was staring far too intently at his lyrium-etched neck despite all the measures they'd taken to hide it.

"I need to borrow your elf if you don't mind, you can have mine," she said politely.

Fenris all but bolted to her side after offering the ladies a polite bow. Merrill wandered over, mostly watching the glimmer of the other women's dresses. This entire setting was new to her, even more so than it was new to Hawke and company. Fenris looked like a bowstring ready to snap, a tension in his arm that was easily noticed. Hawke resisted the urge to touch him, weary of the eyes that followed them as they dipped out of the courtyard and finally out of sight behind some elaborate shrubbery.

The mansion sat at the edge of a very impressive set of cliffs overlooking the forests below and their particular spot offered a small perspective of that. With the sun still hanging low in the sky there was a picturesque amount of fading sunlight stretched across the emerald treetops below.

"I'll never understand why mother enjoyed these things, do you want the rest?" Hawke indicated her wine and Fenris shook his head, he'd already had one as well.

She huffed, giving her wine a sniff and then spilling the contents of the glass into a nearby shrub. As Hawke placed the glass down on a ledge Fenris spoke.

"The more I think about it the more I realize that there is no way Vist could be a marquis. He wasn't a slave but he certainly wasn't a magister either. It takes decades to rise up in Orlesian social circles, or Tevinter for that matter," Fenris crossed his arms, "we're wasting our time."

While Hawke couldn't disagree entirely she didn't commit to his particular opinion.

"Nonsense, have you seen the way Merrill looks at the Hors d'oeuvres? Priceless. I've had to persuade her to eat several of them now because she thinks they're too pretty to eat," Hawke let the joy spread over her face. It was amusing, "I think most of those women were more interested in you than Varric's story by the way."

This was light enough to draw a groan followed by a fleeting smile from Fenris. When the business with Danarius had finished they'd reconnected and now whatever they had felt almost stronger. A lot of times things passed unsaid between them but completely understood.

"Good thing I'm already taken or I'd have to sleep with one eye open tonight," he joked, uncrossing his arms.

Hawke shook her head, pulling herself close to Fenris with both hands on his waist.

"Who says you don't?" she joked with a sly expression.

"Me, because I've got the attention of the most beautiful woman I've known," Fenris ran his fingertips down the side of her face, "I doubt she would murder me on a whim."

The mage scoffed pretending to look offended.

"You don't know me at all," she joked then snuck a kiss. Fenris threaded his fingers through her hair to pull her closer, opening his mouth to hers and for a moment the couple became lost in one another. Hawke slid her fingers down his lithe form, glad for the distraction from the gilded airs happening on the other side of the shrubbery.

Unfortunately this was not meant to last.

"Ahem, Lady Hawke, apologies for interrupting but there is someone at the front gate who claims they are your guest," a well-dressed butler called from behind them.

Both Hawke and Fenris jumped away from each other as though struck by lightning, Hawke's face colored. She wiped her mouth while trying to maintain her poise. Only an hour in and she'd probably created a delicious Isabela-worthy scandal. The Champion of Kirkwall and her affair with her associate's manservant elf. Fenris was already looking away, running a thumb over his mouth to collect the moisture. There was a glint of something on his face, amusement maybe, but he didn't let on.

"Oh, well thank you," Hawke offered a polite nod but the butler, oddly enough a human one, stood unmoving for a good minute.

"Well, would you like me to let them in or...?" he finally inquired somehow able to keep his face a complete mask without emotions.

Hawke colored again.

"I'll, uh, I can go greet them. Thank you," she bowed politely and was eager to be anywhere but the scene of her embarrassment. Not that there was anything to be embarrassed about in a good kiss with Fenris of course.

Varric's crowd had dispersed now as another round of appetizers flooded the courtyard and it appeared that Merrill was chatting with a few of the servants.

The champion of Kirkwall recovered the usual pallor to her face at this point and, butler leading, made her way to the front gate where all guests were greeted. Hawke had no idea who was claiming to know them but she understood why the servants would want clarification on such matters: it wasn't unheard of to have people lying to get into grand events hosted by nobility. However, in the middle of seemingly nowhere it just became downright suspicious.

As they approached the gate it became increasingly clear to Hawke just exactly what was going on. A woman stood barred from the estate by two silent guardsmen. A rich velveteen dress gave way to bustling cleavage and bronze skin. When Hawke met her dark gaze she smirked.

"Hawke! Tell these brutes to let me in, they insist I am no associate of yours," the woman waved her hand fan angrily.

Stifling a laugh, Hawke rubbed her forehead. Her alone time with Fenris had been, of course, interrupted by Kirkwall's most notorious pirate.

"Ah Lady Bellos, my apologies," Hawke turned to the guards, "she is indeed with me."

Crisis solved, the guardsmen ambled back to their posts as the butler bowed in departure. Isabela's grin was so wide she thought the woman might split in two. The pirate snapped her hand fan shut and wrapped her arm around Hawkes, the trail of her dress actually quite impressive. To anyone else she would look like just another well-endowed noble.

"Lead the way, dearest," Isabela said, smiling faintly and when they were away from earshot Hawke finally addressed her unexpected appearance.

"You just couldn't stay away, huh? Well, I'll add it to the scandals of the evening," Hawke sighed in a tired tone, leading Isabela to the main area.

The pirate smirked.

"Admit it, you were bored without me. This place wasn't exactly easy to find by the way," Isabela rolled her eyes, "who builds a mansion in the middle of nowhere like this? Reminds me of that rich bloke we mur-" she began but received a chastising look from Hawke and quickly shut it.

"Try not to get us into trouble," Hawke slid out of her companion's grips.

"Don't worry, I'll try not to embarrass you too much Hawke," Isabela laughed lightly, "I'll just babysit Merrill... and maybe that dashing man in those deliciously tight pants over there."

Before she could comment Isabela disappeared into the crowd in a blur of red velvet and black lace. It was Varric who took her place, taking small bites out of a strange cheese Hawke had yet to sample.

"So Hawke, I heard the weirdest rumor just now about the Champion in a lusty embrace with my man servant. Care to tell me about it?" Varric did a double take and, seeing that nobody was looking, threw the unsatisfactory cheese into a nearby shrub.

The mage frowned, waving away the servant bearing the questionable cheese plate.

"Odd. Have you seen our companion Lady Bellos? Now you wouldn't have anything to do with that would you?" Hawke raised an eyebrow.

Varric put both his hands up.

"Not a one, you think I want Rivaini here poking at the nobles and deflating my stories?" his voice held a mock sarcasm tone that Hawke couldn't help but grin at.

Of course Varric was involved.

"I think that's exactly what you wanted," she sighed with a content expression, "let the scandals unfold then. By the end of the night we'll be the talk of the banquet. What joy! With any luck we'll never be invited to a party again."

Fenris stepped beside her, about to say something but the light conversation had drawn to a complete stop. At the front of the well-dressed courtyard a servant was beckoning the guests over with a polite gesture. All attentions fell on the elven woman as she bowed then respectfully began her display.

"Esteemed guests may I introduce your most gracious host," the elf bowed away and the courtyard erupted into a polite round of clapping as the Marquis of the hour stepped out to greet his guests.

What greeted them was most unexpected. Vist was, apparently, a woman. She looked like a vision of a dream with pale blonde hair that was pulled back into a graceful bun. It was a style similar to Empress Celine. Accompanying her fine figure were icy blue eyes and a pale complexion that would make any woman jealous. She wore a deep purple dress showing an tasteful display of neck and cleavage.

For a second the whole room flipped into some sort of hushed shock but Hawke broke the silence with a clap and her companions quickly joined her until the Marquess's praises were once again being sung. Varric leaned in to whisper something to her.

"Less people would've attended if she'd written Marquess, a fortunate misprint I'm sure," he managed as the clapping finally died down.

Fenris looked relieved, probably at the prospect that this woman wasn't his friend.

"My honored guests!" the marquess was holding a wine glass close, "I apologize for the misinformed invitations but never the less am humbled by your attendance. The party is to go well in to the night and all are welcome to retire to their chambers when desired. I have had rooms prepared for all of you this evening."

Hawke shot a look at Fenris who shared the same skepticism. They probably wouldn't be staying much later so the idea of rooms was irrelevant.

"I implore that you see all of what Chateau Des Mons has to offer, especially the gardens and try our fine wine, imported from the Imperium itself. Let the entertainment began," with a practiced smile she clapped twice and a nearby servant began to sing beautifully by strumming her lute.

The party had, apparently, begun.


	3. A Believable Tale

**CHAPTER THREE  
** ( The Sweetest Dreams )

"And THAT, my good duke, is how Hawke single-handedly seduced the Comptess into reinstating the Hawkes in the Amell estate," Varric concluded and the small gathering of nobles cheered politely.

It was way later than any of them wanted to stay but Isabela and Merrill were having a ridiculously good time and Hawke was loathe to end it quickly given their recent stressors. As the crowd dispersed for a second drive by of the dessert table, Varric gave Hawke a sympathetic look.

"As much as I hate to say it I think we're stuck here for the evening. I'm going to go check out the accommodations and give Bianca some much needed-attention, it's impolite to keep a lady waiting," Varric winked and then was off through the castle gates.

Hawke sighed, now holding wine she didn't care to drink. Varric had a point. It was well into the night and traveling when they were this tired, or when it was this late, was only asking for trouble. They'd rest their heads here and then shove off in the morning.

As for the host of the evening, the marquess had done a polite set of rounds to all of her guests then departed early. Collectively, the group had said maybe five sentences to her. This wasn't an unusual social tactic however and many of the guests attributed it to her maintaining an air of mystery. As most would be staying they would enjoy a decent breakfast and farewell tomorrow which left the evening vastly open for pleasantries and partying.

Isabela, seeing that Hawke was looking her way, excused herself for a moment to speak with her mage companion.

"You look exhausted Hawke! I demand that you take your man servant and go directly to bed, if you know what I mean," Isabela was slightly intoxicated at this point but seemed to be handling it surprisingly well, Merrill on the other hand...

"If I have to go chasing through the forests after you two..." Hawke let her voice trail off.

Isabela laughed heartily at her.

"Nonsense. I'll keep Kitten safe. You just grab your man and get some much-needed alone time," she winked, "don't worry about appearances, I've been sowing the seeds of your delicious manservant tryst all night long. Though according to Varric you did a pretty decent job yourself."

Hawke sighed, not really sure what to make of that, but she didn't get a chance to object because Isabela went back to Merrill in a swiftness that told Hawke she wasn't actually drunk. Yet another talent to add to Isabela's questionable repertoire. Still, a satisfied smile played across her face as she made her way over to where Fenris sat alone thinking.

"Looks like we'll be staying after all," she managed and sat down beside him.

It was a good minute or two before Fenris spoke.

"I'm not sure what I expected to happen here. I was telling myself not to think about the possibility of one good salvageable thing coming from my past because surely nothing good could come of being a slave," he shifted, "but I had hoped that maybe... well, it doesn't matter anymore. I can see that you're tired, let's collect our gear and head to our room."

"Our room? You sure you don't want to bunk with Varric?" Hawke teased.

"Not a chance," there was a slight smile on the broody elf's face.

* * *

If Hawke had reservations about staying at another individual's estate they quickly faded away with the hot bath that had been drawn. She'd peeled off the dress and placed it besides her gear. A good while later she forced herself to step out of the tub. Auburn hair clung to her neck and face in wet clumps but there was a refreshing lavender scent from the soap as she wrapped her towel around herself and padded into the room she was sharing with Fenris.

The elf went into the bath after her, leaving Hawke to reflect on the entire affair.

"You have to wonder just exactly where this marquess came from. It seems peculiar that someone would rise up seemingly out of nowhere to claim such a distinguished title," Hawke remarked, removing the towel and dabbing at her hair.

Splashing sounded as Fenris dipped into the bath in the adjacent room.

"Says the Champion of Kirkwall. It can be done, apparently. The real question here is why is an Orlesian living in the Free Marches," more splashing.

Hawke tossed the soggy towel over the back of a nearby chair and knelt down to pick up some night clothes. A slinky dark lace night dress she didn't remember packing lay on top, causing her to roll her eyes. Isabela of course. She was about to toss the thing to the side when she decided she'd give it a whirl and she slid the dress over her figure.

"Why do Orlesians do anything? I couldn't say," Hawke sighed and flopped into the canopy bed.

Whomever had drawn up the spacious room had left out very little in terms of extravagance and even the sheets appeared to be made from a fine material. Hawke closed her eyes, her auburn locks spread unevenly on the pillow behind her. More than anything she wanted to be home in her own bed as far away from the strangeness of this estate as possible.

Varric had insisted that it wasn't uncommon for nobles to host guests for extended periods of time so accepting the offer of rooming here wasn't odd at all. In fact some guests would be apparently staying for a couple of days. But it sure as heck still felt odd. Somewhere at the end of the room her gnarled wooden staff sat comfortably, a reluctant gift from Carver that had arrived without so much as a note. Despite their differences the siblings still cared for one another, in a strange sort of way. Hawke was just about to drift off when a voice called her back.

"Hawke?" it was Fenris, standing beside her.

She blinked the sleep away and sat up in the bed. Fenris settled in between her legs, now dressed in his night clothes. He held her next to him and rested his chin on her head.

"Did I fall asleep? I must be getting old," she laughed, still groggy as she wrapped her arms around Fenris's lightly clothed waist. Heat from the bath pooled off his skin comfortingly even though it was dry.

If the elf smiled she wouldn't be able to notice.

"Do you think we could try the thing again?" he questioned, hesitation written all over his voice. This question snapped Hawke out of her sleepy demeanor.

Last time hadn't gone so well so it was surprising that the elf would dare to tread those paths again. Still, Hawke had to admit she was impressed. For someone so scarred by magic Fenris seemed to be taking dating a mage rather nicely, even if he always cussed out any other mages (poor Merrill included).

"If you're sure than yes," she managed, pulling away from Fenris to pat the bed besides her, "come on then."

Fenris settled face up, biting his lip.

"I'm not sure when you got that but you look beautiful," he managed but Hawke could tell he was trying to fill the silence with words. Gray eyes smiled as she settled herself on his lightly clothed form, both knees straddling his hips.

"It was a gift, apparently, from our favorite pirate," she rolled her eyes then spread his arms out slightly with her own hands, "relax. Now close your eyes."

Hawke spread her fingertips over his shoulder and tugged on a small amount of her magic, grabbing a tiny piece and letting it reach her fingertips. Small flecks of electricity flowed gently from her fingers and she traced them over Fenris's arms like an artist painting a canvas. While her specialties had always been fire and ice she'd learned a few interesting tricks from Anders. This was just one of many. Something about the current triggered a 'chill-like' reaction that was sensual in nature so most people (mostly Isabela of course) enjoyed it.

She remembered the odd feeling she'd had after Anders had given it a try on her, almost to the point of uncomfortable. Looking back she should've realized that the rebel mage had been entirely attracted to her. A prominent mage bent on helping her fellow mages? What wasn't there to like? Since Fenris their conversations had been cordial and eventually Anders and her had comfortably into a 'friends only' role. That didn't stop him from getting into arguments with the broody elf of course.

Fenris tensed beneath her and she stopped the flow of magic, remembering the last time as clear as though it had just happened. Magic had somewhat of a negative reaction from Fenris and that was on the good days. Hawke couldn't imagine what sort of unpleasantness he'd endured at the hands of his late master. His hand shot up to grab her wrist, eyes now open.

"Don't stop," Hawke twisted her wrist out of his grasp then brought his hand up to her face.

"You're tensing. I didn't forget last time. It's just going to take time for you to get used to magic, especially after all you've been through," she reasoned, adjusting herself off of him and falling into the curve of his side.

Beneath them the mattress made no noise as Fenris turned to face her, cupping her chin with his hand. He ran his thumb down her face until it rested on her lips, parting them slightly. Hawke was surprised at the gesture but certainly didn't find it unwelcoming.

"I don't need to get used to you, I feel like I've known you my entire life Hawke," sage-green eyes looked deeply at her, "magic perverts everything it touches, but you... you're not like the other mages. I don't want to be afraid of a part of you."

"Then don't be," she said simply, eyes holding his for a moment before they dove into one another.

Much later Hawke lay against Fenris, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest as he slumbered peacefully. Could this truly be real? After all the misfortune that had befallen her family Hawke felt as though her bloodline had been cursed. The loss of her father, Bethany, then her mother, Carver's betrayal, and Gamlen's questionable character.

There was nothing worse than feeling utterly alone.

When she had been at her lowest, thinking Fenris's affections gone to her forever, he'd confessed how much of a fool he'd been. Now she felt that all her suffering had brought her to this very point in time, to Fenris. Given the chance she'd suffer it all again if she ended up in bed besides the man she loved. Hopefully, this wouldn't be necessary. Hawke felt her heartbeat slow as she drifted into sleep, still clinging to Fenris.

* * *

Kirkwall felt different today, the sun brighter and the people happier. Hawke descended the stairs to the mansion, giving the two servants a smile and a nod before walking out into the sunlight. As the door moved to close behind her a woman pushed through. Silvery strands were tied loosely in a ponytail similar to her own but the clothing this woman wore was much more refined.

"Hold on! You can't leave without your coat, you'll catch a chill," the woman fussed, holding out a jacket so elaborately tailored that it seemed almost too fine to wear.

"Really mother, you worry far too much," she laughed but slid the jacket over her dress. It felt strange to be wearing a dress but when she thought on it more she couldn't really consider why she felt that way. The Amells always wore finery outside. Uncle Gamlen had standards for his beloved family.

They'd arrived from Lothering the year before a dirtied mess of despair, the four of them so fatigued, and so the sight of Gamlen fetching them from the gallows had been a much-needed relief. Hawke still remembered the glamour of the Amell estate as they'd stepped inside. Gamlen had kept it near pristine in their absence.

"Tell your sister I said hello. I'll see you and your brother for dinner," Leandra leaned forward and kissed Hawke on the cheek before disappearing back into the Amell estate.

Hawke smiled to herself as she strode to her destination without a care in the world.

Soon enough she entered her sister's modest estate, not too far from her mothers. Shortly after they'd engaged in Kirkwall's social circles Bethany had been stolen away by a distinguished noble lord. Dark locks curled around her face as she waddled over to Hawke holding the tell-tale swell of her belly. Amber eyes lit up at the sight of her sister.

"You came! Oh how wonderful. We'll be able to pick out nursery decorations," Bethany beamed then settled onto a couch and indicated that her sister should sit beside her.

Hawke sank down, crossing her leg. One of the servants brought them tea.

"Everything's going well I take it?" she asked, eyes focused on the healthy glow her sister was exhibiting.

"Just so! But sister, who wants to talk about a married woman these days?" Bethany looked at her with a playful smile, "now tell me about this new flame of yours, Lord Duvais."

Hawke paused. Lord Duvais? That didn't seem right. Wasn't she dating someone else...? Her mind struggled to remember. Bethany seemed to pick up on this and instead fast forwarded the conversation.

"Tonight is the ball, wouldn't it be lovely if he were there?" her face was eager but Hawke could feel a headache coming on.

 _Ebony curls framed her expressionless face, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth as lifeless eyes stared into the sky above. Her right arm was twisted cruelly to the side and Leandra cried in horror beside her, sinking to the ground. On the horizon more darkspawn were coming, forcing their hand._

"Sister? Hello? You were caught in a daydream there for a second," Bethany's expression was concerned now.

Hawke sat back, feeling off. A thought occurred to her at that point in time. Someone was missing.

"Where is... Varric? How did... how did I get here?" she asked.

"The same way you always do silly! With the door," Bethany smiled, dismissing the spreading concern on Hawke's face.

The champion stood up and suddenly the room felt like a prison.

 _Fenris cupped her chin, smiling for one of the first times before he drew her in for a kiss. As they pulled away snowy white hair settled on his forehead, three simple words offered that set a comfortable fire in her heart. This was almost too good to be real._

"Sister? You're scaring me. Now sit down and tell me about Duvais," Bethany's expression was serious now. It wasn't an expression Bethany normally used.

Hawke felt a sadness settle in her heart.

"This isn't real. You aren't real," she whispered then reached inside herself, pulling on the dormant magic. A flicker of fire consumed her and Hawke watched as Bethany burned away in front of her, again, as the root of the lie was exposed.


	4. A Lie Revealed

**CHAPTER FOUR  
** ( A Lie Revealed )

Moisture threatened to spill over from her eyes as Hawke sat up in the bed. She barely had time to react before the shade reached out to grab her throat. The mage spread her fingertips and flames erupted from them. The shade screeched, flailing as it sank to the ground and eventually was no more. Her breaths came rapidly for a few minutes before she regained her composure. There wasn't really time to think, however, because Fenris still slumbered in the same endless dream-like sleep she'd been stuck in.

Hawke reached inside of herself, pulling on the same magic she had and let her hand hover over Fenris.

"Forgive me," she winced then caustic sparks flew from her fingertips, interrupting the flow of dark magic that had possessed the elf and probably giving him a decent shock as well.

Just like Hawke had, Fenris shot up in bed, panting. Hawke grabbed his face, holding him tightly so that he could gather himself.

"It was just a dream, someone trapped us in an endless dream in the fade but we're back now," Hawke let him go and Fenris regained himself, now oriented to time and place.

Emotions still lingered in her body, a swelling sadness at the loss of Bethany and Leandra as though it had only happened yesterday. Wordlessly the duo geared up.

"We need to find the others, we might not be the only ones targeted," Hawke said harshly as she tightened the last buckle on her chest piece.

Fenris's hand wrapped around her wrist as she grabbed her staff.

"How did you break the compulsion?" he asked.

"I'm a mage, I've been to the fade plenty of times. What concerns me is how exactly we got there, especially trapped in a dream," Hawke's face hardened, "this doesn't bode well for the marquess or her guests."

Silently, Hawke peered down the hallway to find it completely empty. Staff in hand, she made her way down to Varric's room and pressed the door open. The dwarf lay asleep in his bed with no sign of demons or shades anywhere. Hawke whispered sharply at her companion.

Dwarves didn't dream so there was hardly any chance of him being mentally stuck in the fade. The lucky bastard was probably just sleeping.

"Varric! Varric!" she poked him lightly.

Varric tossed over in bed, muttering something about nugs. Fenris shook his head and stepped forward, shaking the dwarf repeatedly until he jumped awake. His fingers raced for Bianca but fell short when he realized it was the pair of them looming over him.

"Andraste's balls elf! Haven't you heard of knocking?" he sat up, night robe pressed around his groggy form.

Hawke shrugged.

"Maybe you were just sleeping but Fenris and I were trapped in a nightmare, a certain fade-related nightmare," she shook her head.

The dwarf scanned the room briefly and found that they were both fully-geared. A heavy sigh followed as he stood up, brushing the sheets aside.

"See? This is why we don't go to parties Hawke. Trouble is like your vengeful ex-boyfriend," he shook his head, "give me a minute to get ready will you?"

Hawke nodded and the pair stepped outside as Varric dressed. She traced the dark wood of the staff with her fingertips, settling on a small cerulean crystal that had been affixed to the top. For someone who hated mages Carver had pretty edcuated tastes in mage-wear. Merrill had surmised that he probably asked some of the mage charges what they preferred. Fenris looked ahead, thinking.

"What exactly did you dream about?" he inquired.

"Some posh fantasy regarding life as a distinguished Kirkwall noble, what a bore," she started, "you'd think a demon would have better tastes. If they had been any good at it I never would've noticed something was off."

Fenris smirked in response to her confidence, probably amusing himself with the thought of her as a posh noble. Even Hawke had to admit it was amusing.

"Of course. I dreamed of Danarius, more of a nightmare really. Like stepping back in time," he then growled, "magic, what purpose does it serve other than to torment others?"

He seemed to realize the broad hurt of this statement and was about to fix it when a fully-geared Varric brandishing his beloved Bianca stepped out.

"Rivaini? Daisy?" he asked.

Hawke shook her head.

"I don't even know where they boarded, when we settled in for the night Isabela was still going strong with the drinks," Hawke admitted.

"We better check these rooms then, be prepared for some weird shit. Nobles love erotic role play in foreign bedrooms," the dwarf said with a straight face.

The mage couldn't stop her eyebrow from shooting up in skepticism.

"He's joking Hawke," Fenris clarified, drawing a light chuckle from the Champion.

Multiple abandoned rooms later it was decided that the rooms were empty. Wherever their companions were it wasn't here. Hawke slung her staff over her back into its harness as she looked at her current party members. They quickly formulated that searching the non-guest suite of the estate might be the best bet. As they stepped out into the hallway Varric shared a thoughtful insight.

"I was wondering how a singular marquess could afford this level of finery and not be involved in the underworld and then it occurred to me," Hawke's hand paused over the closed doors leading to the main corridor, "she couldn't. There's no way she's a real marquess. We've been baited."

"Considering the amount of nobles present, I doubt we were the targets, not to mention the guests whom attended are of no significant rank. Minor lords and ladies save one duchess," Hawke pointed out, "I doubt taking them out would do much for the state of Orlais' affairs."

"Probably not but replacing them..." Varric let his voice trail off.

Hawke was unnerved by the thought. Replacing indicated either body doubles or, more ominously, demons. She pushed the doors to the main hall open. It was a grandiose area with a double stairwell and upper level overlooking. At the front stood a large gilded statue of Andraste with her hands stretched upwards in prayer. Someone stood at the top of the stairwell then began to slowly walk towards them.

Fenris's hand fell to the hilt of his blade but Hawke waved her hand at him and he halted.

"Gaimon Pel?" Varric questioned. This man was apparently a guest from the party. If Hawke remembered correctly, he was a commoner hunting friend of one of the lords in attendance.

Something was wrong about the way he walked, a refined precision no human could have. As he got close enough for her to see Hawke noticed that his eyes were darker than shadow and his pupils erased by an even darker magic. She pushed away the chill running up her spine.

Fenris placed himself in front of the duo, drawing his sword.

"Demon," he hissed.

The very-possessed Gaimon Pel offered a polite bow then spoke though his voice was somewhat altered.

"The mistress requests your presence in the library to... discuss certain issues," he replied politely as though Fenris had not just threatened his life.

Hawke and Varric exchanged glances.

"Where are our companions?" Hawke asked firmly.

Every fiber of her being was screaming that they should cut this demon down but it happened to be wearing an innocent man's face. If there was any way they could save him AND find out where their companions were this was a gamble they might have to make. Fenris was tense but Hawke knew he wouldn't strike without her word. She indicated that he should back down and Fenris stepped to the side but kept both his blade and his gaze trained on the figure.

"Mistress wishes to discuss a deal with you. I have only been sent to bring you to her," the man said in monotone.

"This has trap written all over it Hawke," Varric interjected.

It was true but this man was a necessary evil if they wanted to find their companions safely.

"We don't have a choice. Very well demon, take us to your mistress," she felt the sarcasm dripping from every word.

Not a word passed between them as they were led up the stairwell and down a seemingly endless corridor. Fenris's hands never left his broadsword and Bianca was poised to strike but Hawke had opted to keep her staff sheathed. If it came down to it she didn't really need it to cast her spells. After an uncomfortably long walk the trio were led into a towering library. Behind them the possessed man stood dutifully by the door but Hawke's eyes were drawn to a more prominent figure in the room.

"Marquess," she stated, only a bit surprised at the development.

The woman, still adorned in her evening finery, rose from her seat at a large desk. Around them a collection of books towered on every wall, enough to make any circle jealous. When the marquess strode down the small set of stairs towards them Hawke's personal boundary line was broken and she reached for her staff. A smirk crossed the other woman's face. To anyone without context she might have looked like a beautiful woman flirting but Hawke could see passed her external appearance and there was something sinister about the woman.

"Hawke, as impressive as ever. You didn't like my dream, huh? And here I thought you would give anything to be with your family again," she purred with a posh expression offered to the mage.

Hawke growled. She remembered the hurt she'd felt upon waking.

"It's not being with them if it's a lie. Besides I couldn't get over the cheap naming schemes, next time you orchestrate a dream be sure to create something a little more... realistic. Carver and I would never get along," she quipped sarcastically.

The marquess seemed completely unfazed by this, however, and gestured with dainty fingers that they should sit down. When the group remained standing she said nothing and continued her polite charade. Hawke wasn't entirely sure just exactly what was going on with the marquess but she had a few ideas. Demon? Blood mage? Take your pick.

"See, I have run into a problem. You were never supposed to be here. In fact I had it on good authority that the Champion of Kirkwall rarely attended parties of this caliber so imagine my surprise when I hear that you're attending," she began to run her fingers over the books of a nearby shelf, "no matter I figured, we'll just trap you in dream sleep like everyone else. It was a magical poison in the wine, if you were unsure. But the great Hawke has proven far more formidable than imagined!"

Icy blue eyes swept over the group like a wolf watching prey. This was a creature that hunted for fun, not necessity.

"Get to the point," Hawke called in an annoyed tone.

Before them platinum blonde hair shone against the dim candlelight, a flash of the shimmering hues of her dress catching as well. Had she not have just trapped Hawke and companions in the fade the mage might have found her appearance flawless but now she was just pissed. Fenris seemed ready to snap, fingers tensing over the blade of mercy she'd given him last week to the point where his knuckles were turning white.

"If you leave, no questions asked, I will produce your companions. They will be completely unharmed and you may go about your business as if this... unpleasant occurrence never happened," the marquess spoke in her smooth voice.

It took all of Hawke's effort not to scoff. There it was, the smallest of flickers that she should've noticed earlier. This woman was no mage, not anymore.

"I've got a better idea. You die demon," as Hawke went to draw her staff Fenris charged and Varric whipped around to train Bianca on the guard at the door.

The elf's blade swung, cutting through the air as the marquess stepped back with an inhuman speed. Purple magic burned her disguise away, revealing the tell tale lavender skin and glowing horns of a desire demon. She laughed haughtily at them, a hint of burning anger in her voice.

"Fools! I will kill you all!" she screeched, waving her hand so that a sphere-like barrier covered her seductive form.

Hawke cursed as a handful of possessed servants poured in through the door way.

"Damnit Hawke, these are people. If we kill them..." he let his voice trail off, backing up as a dozen of the possessed walked slowly towards them.

"I know! Keep them off me I have a plan," Hawke called, drawing her staff. She threaded her thoughts into the core of her power, sending the magic flowing through the staff.

With the desire demon impervious to hits it would be prudent to address the mob about to outnumber them. Several shades had also clawed their way up from the floor and as one went to swing at Hawke Fenris sliced it straight across. Blade raised, he turned his back to Hawke to focus on the shades. Varric took another down with Bianca. Hawke closed her eyes, trusting her companions completely.

There, it was ready.

Cold frost ebbed up the wooden staff, the energy of the magic collecting in the crystalline gem. With one strong swing ice spiked from the ground her staff had indicated, trapping the mob within its crystalline spires.

"It won't last forever!" she yelled, swinging a fireball in the direction of the demon's barrier. It bounced off slightly but the barrier sustained significant damage. Varric shot a bolt at another shade which screeched then flailed to the ground, gone.

As Hawke flung another fireball the barrier cracked, dissolving under the strength of her magic. The demon growled in rage but was too slow to dodge the next projectile which hit her blank in the face. Claw-like nails beat at the air where the magic had dissolved leaving just enough of a window for Fenris to approach. In one clean cut he swung the blade striking the demon down. Purple fire erupted as she wailed and, mostly for good measure, Hawke flung one more fireball at the creature.

With one final scream the demon died and the glamour she held on the mansion around them dissipated as though they had awakened from a dream.

Hawke looked around her in horror at the place they'd actually stayed in.

"Well, this is unexpected," Varric chimed in. With the death of their master the shades faded and those possessed fell to the ground, asleep.

What was once a beautiful, elaborate, and well-kept mansion now appeared as it truly was. Dust and cobwebs clung to every corner of the decrepit library. A skeletal frame was propped up against one of the tables holding a foul-smelling drink. Whatever books remained in the library were so age-worn and torn that it would be a loose interpretation to even call this place a library. Graveyard was probably more appropriate than library given the damage time had done.

"I'm wanting to know less and less what I actually bathed in," Hawke said, disgusted as she knelt down to inspect the pile of slumped servants. The ice had long since dissipated, "alive, but it looks like they won't be waking up anytime soon. Probably a side effect of the wine."

Hawke stood up dusting her hands off and feeling very much like she needed a shower.

"It's probably safe enough to leave them here now that the marquess isn't around. If we weren't the targets then I have to wonder who is," Fenris looked at Hawke with a concerned expression, "the nobles?"

"Seems like it," Hawke said with a hint of weariness in her voice.

Fenris waved a paper that had been sitting on the marquess's 'desk', the ink not worn by the passing of time. It looked like a correspondence of the marquess's. Hawke took the hint and grabbed it from him reading faster than she thought she could.

"Apparently this was not the Marquis Vist but a stand in. Obviously a demon stand in. This looks like some sort of contract accompanied by some very specific instructions. There's apparently a crypt in the woods where Vist conducts his 'business'. Whatever disturbing things that might entail," Hawke couldn't help her sarcasm with the next remark, "a man who conducts business in crypt? Clearly we have to meet him."

She let the paper go and it fluttered to the ground like a leaf that had fallen victim to the wind.

"What should we do about these guys?" Fenris indicated the still sleeping group of friends and servants. Varric shook his head.

"Lock them in here. Minus a few nightmares they'll be safer not roaming the halls of this dusty mansion," the dwarf admitted and Hawke had to agree, "not to mention they'll probably pass out when they find out what we've actually been touching and eating. I certainly don't want to know."

When the lock was safely sealed with Hawke's magic Varric turned to his companions.

"Next time you want to go to a party Hawke it's going to be at the Hanged Man and I'll be doing the planning," with that he slung Bianca back over his shoulder.


	5. Just a Nice Walk

**CHAPTER FIVE  
** ( Just a Nice Walk )

On the way here the forest had been a lush, healthy emerald hue of towering pines but now it was duller and laden with fog. The overcast night's sky ahead didn't exactly help. Hawke held a small flame in her hands as they followed the questionably small pathway leading down to what they could only guess was the crypt. It was still much more pleasant than the morbid display they'd witnessed in the courtyard as they passed through it.

Not a single piece of food they'd been served had been living in the last year apparently, save the magically-poisoned wine. It had to beg the question why none of them had gotten sick but Hawke surmised this must have been the work of the demon. Still the courtyard had stood like a graveyard of the past, surrounding shrubbery both withered and black. The fountain was entirely dry despite the fact that Hawke distinctly remembered the feeling of the water over her fingertips.

It was disturbing how easily the demon had charmed them all. How had Hawke not seen it sooner? Nobody else save Merrill would've been qualified to see through those charms and both of them had failed in that aspect. If Fenris wanted to go on a tangent about how shitty mages were he didn't let on, keeping mostly silent save a comment about how he'd known something was up with the ham.

Hawke appreciated his digression in this matter, especially given their pre-bed conversation.

Still as they walked down the dirt-road path Hawke had been thinking about whether or not she'd actually bathed in water or something else. More importantly she wasn't sure which of these was the better alternative. They'd also spent some time unclothed in that bed... some sort of mental block occurred as she shut down the thought. Tonight there would be so many levels of scrubbing.

"Hold up, did you hear that?" Varric held his hand out to the group, suggesting they stop. Because he was normally right about traps and the like, both Hawke and Fenris obeyed instantly.

Fenris knit his brow while trying to hear just exactly what Varric had picked up.

"Can't say I do," he admitted.

The dwarf shook his head.

"Must be part of the whole haunted ambiance," he replied gruffly, "this place makes Bertrand's mansion look like a resort."

Maybe it wasn't the most appropriate place for a joke but Hawke couldn't help herself. Sarcasm was more than a language to her, it was a commitment.

"Really? I rather enjoyed the self-moving furniture and creepy laughing shadows," she allowed herself a grim grin, the flames illuminating their pathway flickering slightly with her altered concentration.

Without any proof of traps or the like the group continued their walk down the path way which seemed to be getting wider. Less than a minute later Varric indicated they should pause.

"There it is again," he stressed and the group's eyes combed whatever they could see in the darkened woods.

"Something's ghosting us," Fenris concluded, "or someone."

A chill crept up Hawke's spine. It wouldn't be long now until they reached the crypt. They'd been able to spot the structure from the forest-side cliff by the courtyard. It was taking a gamble that this was even the crypt but nothing else had caught their eye among the forested landscape and no such crypt existed in the main estate so their hands were tied.

Hawke's eyes were drawn to something on the ground and she knelt down, one hand still containing the flame. Three moist drops of crimson lay in the dirt. No magic clung to them but she could tell it wasn't a subtle cut.

"This is... blood?" she questioned, "we must be close."

Before the group could address the blood further a figure leapt out from the shadows, knocking Hawke over and pinning her to the ground. Foul jaws snapped at her face but Hawke put the outside of her armored arm up to defend herself. Sharpened teeth bit aggressively at the metal, unable to pierce it as Hawke struggled to throw the dark-furred creature off.

With its full weight focused on her shoulders it was near impossible for her to ecape.

The creature wailed as a bolt from Bianca pierced its thick hide. Something slammed into its side so that Hawke's shoulders were freed enough to roll away. She turned over on the dirt and pushed up with her hands, catching her foot on the ground. With staff now in hand, she stood up to face the creature.

It was a larger than life black-furred wolf with blood red eyes. Anything but natural. Fenris had managed to get the creature into a defensive position. It whimpered at the wound his sword had inflicted on one of its leg but then threw its head back, howling into the night. Multiple howls answered and Hawke realized this was going to be a larger problem.

"That's... not good, time to run!" Varric concluded and both party members couldn't agree more as eyes appeared in the shadows between the trees.

Hawke surged fire through her staff as they bolted by the wounded creature, more chasing their heels. There was no way they would be able to fend off a pack of these wolves. Maybe three at most. As they turned the corner another cliff met them, sending panic through Hawke's body. Even if they scaled it there was no way they could get high enough to escape the angry jaws of their hunters unless someone stayed behind as a distraction. There was no way that was happening.

She whipped around, sending a fireball at the nearest target. But when one fell two more seemed to raise in its place. Wolves always hunted in packs, even those influenced by a darker power, it was simply safer that way. When her companions noticed the wall they turned around to join in the fray. Fenris took his place by her side, lashing out at anything that got too close while Varric picked at them from behind with Bianca.

But they were soon outnumbered and Hawke raised her staff to repel a wolf that had gotten too close, bracing herself for the sharp sting of its bite.

It never came.

Hawke opened her eyes just in time to see a sharpened dagger fly by her face, landing directly in her assailant's eye. The creature howled in pain, backing away and when its companions tried to lash out an impressive display of fire sprayed from the ground cutting them off from the pack and wounding several of the wolves. Fenris looked to her in confusion but Hawke shook her head. A figure stood on the cliff face, plain finery accompanied by a brushless broom stick. She waved at Hawke with a smile.

Around them the wolves realized that this prey was no longer profitable and began to retreat to the shadows to lick their wounds. A woman swaggered up to the now-dead one, pulling her blade from its face then wiping the blood on its dark fur coat. Her gown was torn all the way up to her mid thigh, the bottom both torn and covered in dirt but she seemed unaffected by the damage to her dress.

"Oh Hawke, I'm always saving your ass these days," Isabela smirked, sheathing her daggers and placing one hand on her hip, "you must be getting old."

Relieved, Hawke allowed herself a grin.

"I see you've improved your dress significantly," she slid her staff into its holder across her back noting that behind her Merrill had begun to climb down the cliff face.

Fenris also sheathed his blade and wiped blood off his arm as he strode up to them.

"Alas, if only I could've showed up naked. Now that would be a scandal," Isabela laughed the added casually, "so Hawke, where have you been?"

The mage shook her head.

"More like, where have you been? We've already met the marquess. Again. She was a demon apparently. She entrapped all the party guests and held Fenris and I in the fade through an apparently very magically poisoned wine," Hawke didn't even really believe it herself as it was coming out of her mouth.

Isabela's face contorted into a snort.

"No wonder why those gits wouldn't let Merrill and I leave the courtyard," she gestured, "they kept insisting we have another glass of that terrible wine. When I refused they all but chased me out the front gate. Not before I gave Merrill a good bop on the head mind you, she looked about ready to join them for a second."

Fenris's eyebrow shot up, mirroring Hawke's surprise as well.

"You broke her compulsion to a poisoned magic wine with a good whack on the head?" he questioned.

Merrill stepped forward holding her makeshift staff with the same cheery smile.

"Sort of. I managed to wiggle away from the call when I noticed everything getting all fuzzy like. The Keeper was an excellent teacher when it came to resisting outside influences," she still held the broomstick and Hawke tried not to laugh.

While a staff wasn't needed it was always appreciated as they often made it easier to channel magic in certain directions. Life was easier for a mage with a staff, even if one has to use a broomstick. Plus there was always the added benefit of being able to whack something.

"Not good enough apparently," Fenris replied angrily but Hawke shot him an icy look and he said no more. Everyone knew well enough how openly he disapproved of Merrill's communication with her 'spirit'. A matter for another day of course.

"So, time to get out of here?" Isabela asked.

"Nope. We've got to rescue the nobles. We found a note claiming that the real Vist works out of some creepy crypt, my guess is that whatever plans he had for those nobles are happening there right now," she sighed, "as much as I'd love to go home and scrub my skin raw in the bath we've got to clear out this place."

Isabela shook her head.

"Oh Hawke, you're such a good person. Alright boss, what's the plan?" the pirate removed her hand from her hip but the sass still remained strangely enough.

"Well the way I see it Varric, Fenris, and I will clear out the crypt. You and Merrill should head back to the mansion to check for more shades. It's, uh, slightly less impressive than it was," she said tactfully.

Varric scoffed.

"More like something out of a horror story. Plus you guys can grab your gear, I'm sure Daisy isn't too fond of using a broomstick as a staff," the dwarf pointed out.

Merrill beamed.

"True, it does leave me feeling a little witchy," she giggled as the rest of the group shook their heads,  
though each was secretly grateful for the horrible pun. This party hadn't exactly been fun like they expected. At least not the second half anyways.

A few discussions later they were ready to go. Merrill waited patiently as Isabela called back to Hawke.

"Don't do anything stupid Hawke, you owe me some juicy gossip for our timely rescue," she grinned.

"Of course," Hawke nodded at the pirate and soon the women were off, leaving the original group to continue their trudge down the forest path. With no more interest on part of the large wolves given the fire scare the trip was significantly less spooky and they soon reached their destination.

"Well this is... quaint, not really my kind of office but hey everyone's got their quirks I guess," Varric retorted as they entered the clearing.

Thick, broken cobblestones stretched out in a rectangular pattern. Several damaged statues surrounded the exterior with a towering open-door crypt sitting in the center that looked ready to crumble at any minute. As the group stepped onto the stone Hawke was certain they were walking into a trap. Nothing good ever came of crypts or questionable businesses within them.

"Guess we're heading in there," she said wearily and stepped passed the doorway. Fenris was right behind her.

As Varric went to step after them the doorway flared with a dark energy and his hand hit the barrier like it was a wall. The dwarf jumped back as though stung. Hawke turned around, reaching a finger out and tapping the barrier. A small electric charge bit back and she shook her hand. This didn't look like one that she could easily deconstruct. A frown spread across her face as Fenris echoed her sentiment.

"Blood magic," an uncomfortable look passed between the trio.

"Well Hawke, looks like this one is up to you guys. I'll just, uh, hang on in the creepy graveyard," Varric eyed his surroundings uncomfortably.

Hawke shrugged with an apologetic expression.

"It sure beats having to tackle whatever nefarious blood rituals is going on down here, I'd say you got the better end of the bargain," she reasoned.

Depending on what was happening down there her statement might be entirely true.

"Maybe," Varric chuckled then let a look of seriousness cross his face, "don't get dead Hawke, we've still got to babysit Orsino and Meredith when we get back. Make knows nobody else wants to do it."

This elicited a snort from Hawke as well as Fenris.

"Of course, what would Kirkwall do without us?" she smiled, "the same goes for you Varric. I'm sure those wolves would love a hearty dwarven snack."

"I'll stand on a tall tombstone until you get back," he grinned.

"Then you'll see the world the way us vertically unchallenged people do," Fenris pointed out with a sly expression.

"Haha elf, get going love birds. When this is over a need a nap, and a drink," Hawke nodded and the pair descended the stairway, headed for whatever madness awaited them.


	6. Good Old Blood Magic

**CHAPTER SIX  
** ( Good, Old Blood Magic )

"You're awfully quiet," Hawke pointed out as they continued down the impossibly long stairwell.

As they walked their footfalls echoed against the aged stone. Save the noise generated by them the crypt was quiet. The typical musty odor of stagnant death permeated the air, making breathing a bit cumbersome. Neither party admitted it though as this was something they had grown used to in their unfortunate travels.

"Just thinking about Vist. It's once again possible that this might be the same man," the elf pointed out.

Hawke could sympathize.

"Who is this guy to you anyways? Sounds like he's more than just an acquaintance. Anything I should know about?" Hawke probed, more or less trying to provoke a laugh out of the elf.

It sort of worked but Hawke wouldn't consider Fenris's outburst a happy laugh.

"You've been hanging around Isabela too much. Vist was the first person I'd talked to since I... left the fog warriors," there was a small silence, "he gave me coin, treated me like a person, and then pointed me in the direction of Kirkwall. Without him I never would've met you Hawke."

Hawke stumbled a little after her foot caught a crack in the stone. She grabbed a nearby rock to steady herself before continuing to climb downwards.

"Ah, so you're hoping to thank him? I mean how popular is the name Vist in Tevinter? If it's anything like Emilie is to Kirkwall I'd say the odds of him being this blood mage are pretty good," the jested, hoping to defuse the conversation slightly.

The champion was hoping for both their sakes that this Vist fellow was coincidentally named. Fenris's mental state regarding his past was varied and to find that another link he'd considered positive had been entirely deflowered by magic would only add to the hardships. Hawke knew that it would take time for the broody elf to build something that didn't remind him on a day to day basis of what he'd been through.

"Not very," Fenris sighed, "look Hawke, whoever is down there doesn't matter. You know I'll always have your back."

Of course she knew this but hearing it brought a small smile to her face.

"That was never in question actually. I was more concerned about your feelings," she admitted, causing a silence to pass between them.

Hawke's foot stepped onto the floor of the bottom of the crypt and she turned around to face her elf companion. Something about him seemed calmer. He reached out to run a finger down her face making her forget for a tiny moment that the crypt smelled like rot and death around them. As Fenris let his arm fall back down to his side Hawke caught a flash of the crimson sash she'd tied around it some time ago.

"My feelings have never been better. Now let's get this over with so we can go home to our non-haunted bed," the corner of his mouth was turned slightly upwards in a content expression.

The mage felt a small glow at the prospect of her house being called 'our bed'. Once they'd dealt with Danarius the elf had moved into the Hawke estate in every aspect except name. Leandra's passing had left Hawke feeling more alone than ever so after they'd reconnected it only seemed right to spend the majority of time at Hawke's place. That didn't stop the running your place or my place joke they had going and occasionally they'd sleep in the mansion.

The mage returned the sentiment, drawing her staff as the duo entered into the next room. A hum of voices washed over them, none familiar to Hawke.

"Lady Guierron step forward if you will," a man's voice boomed from the center alter.

Two figures grabbed the woman in question by the elbows, shoving her onto the ground before the man. She whimpered, a disheveled mess as she crumpled herself further into the floor in an attempt to get smaller. The men who had brutishly thrown her at the mercy of another stepped back to a crowd of fearful nobles.

As much as she wanted to storm in and crash the blood mage party Hawke thought it prudent to see just exactly what was going on here.

"P-please! I beg you no! A-anything but that," she pleaded.

Hawke caught sight of a thick silver-spotted beard and billowing mage robes before she ducked behind a nearby pillar. Fenris followed suit. As she peered out from their hiding spot Hawke watched the grisly scene unfold. Lady Guierron sobbed uncontrollably before looking up at her captor, eyes wide with fear.

"Mistress Guierron compose yourself! You are among your peers and the first to be granted an invitation into the elite. All you have to do is say yes to my associate. We wouldn't want you do end up like your husband would we?" the man gestured to the lifeless form of a man besides the group, presumably Lord Guierron.

Grey eyes combed over the alter that the blood mage stood in front of: demonic summoning. He meant to possess this woman with a demon.

"N-no, I can't! The maker -" she began but the robed overlord cut her off.

"Don't speak of your heathen goddess here! We all agree that the Black Divine is the true maker's chosen, no?" he eyed the crowd and when none answered slammed his staff down on the cobblestone hard enough to elicit a chorus of frightened agreement.

Behind her Fenris growled Tevinter but, thankfully, only Hawke could hear.

"Now, submit or my associates will cut you down where you stand. After all what sounds better? Demonic possession or death?" the mage questioned.

Presented with no choice the woman began to shake uncontrollably and the two servant-guards that had been watching the main crowd approached her.

Hawke recognized them as two of the servants from the party but the darkened black of their eyes suggested they were no longer their own. In fact she could feel the altered magics of the demons even from this far away. One held a large sword glinting crimson with the blood of its latest victim. Hawke was about to step out from the shadows when the man called Vist turned to look at them.

"But! We have a guest. The Champion of Kirkwall no less!" Hawke stepped out from her cover, glowering with her staff in hand, "did you think I couldn't sense your magic? You're practically buzzing."

The demon guards turned to face her allowing Lady Guierron to scurry back to the frightened group of nobles. Hawke stepped forwards unable to recognize the mage but when Fenris stepped out she didn't have to. Sage-green eyes trained on the man as anger poured over Fenris's usually neutral face. She couldn't blame him, this was pretty dark magic. Had Knight Commander Meredith been here she would've swung her sword righteously while screaming kill them all, nobles included.

Thankfully a more reasonable party had discovered this nefarious plot.

"Vist, it is you," he frowned, blade now held in his grips.

Vist seemed ecstatic at the turn of events that had just transpired.

"Fenris or should I say Leto! How nice to see you again. Did you know Varania came to see me? I offered her an apprenticeship but apparently she'd already accepted one from your master Danarius," he smiled smugly, "how is your master these days? I sent him to Kirkwall after you but I haven't heard. Judging by your expression I'm sure he met with certain... misfortunes."

The elf growled.

"You said you were soporati! You lied to me magister," he clenched the blade tighter.

"You never asked. Thank you for taking out one of my biggest competitors by the way. I've settled nicely into Danarius's holdings. In fact, his death has given me the footing to do my bidding here," Vist gestured towards the crypt.

It was Hawke's turn to chimed in.

"A headquarters in a crypt? Surely a magister could do better," she goaded, her eyes a mix of anger and disgust.

Vist didn't really seem to take the bait. Hawke could feel the disturbing sensation of fingers touching the edges of her mind: blood magic seeking to control her. She said nothing, letting him think he had the advantage. If she didn't bide her time carefully this mage might lay claim to her. Clearly whatever demonic connections he entertained in the fade had granted him unwieldy power.

"Just a stepping stone. Shame you destroyed the Marquess she was quite a delight to have around," he smirked, "I'll just have to invite some new friends to play. I think i'll start with you."

Suddenly a sharp pain flooded Hawke's body as the mage's reach pressed down. The dark grip threatened to suffocate her mind like the sharp point of a needle boring into flesh and Hawke couldn't stop the yell that tore from her mouth. This mage was much stronger than she'd initially bargained for. Besides her Fenris tensed as he realized that Vist's magic now had a hold on Hawke.

"You magister coward! Fight us directly," he yelled, charging in with his blade raised.

The two demonic-men met him with their blades despite Fenris's attempts to ward them off. Hawke could feel the screaming in her mind as her own fingertips spread over the deathly cold cobblestone beneath her. It was like a thousand voices all compelling her to submit and the sheer weight of them could've easily been enough to break a lesser mind.

Fenris's tattoos glowed with an unearthly energy as he dug his hand into one of the demons, pulling its core out and crushing it as though it were made of glass. The other shadow pounced with its blade but Fenris redirected it, shoving it into the ground and piercing its center with an equal ferocity. Both creatures, once human, revealed their true forms, wailing until they faded into the cold stone below.

With nothing separating Fenris from Vist he raised his blade threateningly at the mage who in turn laughed haughtily at him.

"Impressive! You'll make an excellent pet. The champion can be my left hand and you my right," he laughed harder, "what fortune that you both should attend my banquet! What is a handful of nobles when I have the Champion of Kirkwall under my thumb, doing my bidding. I shall have Orlais and Kirkwall eating out of my hand in no time!"

This was enough to provoke Fenris to charge.

He didn't get far however because Hawke's screams intensified and she sank further into the ground. Every second was pure agony. Fenris drew to a halt and gave Vist en expression so sharp that it was surprising he didn't bleed.

"I'll crush her mind entirely if you step one foot closer," an evil expression crossed his face and Fenris fell short of his charge as though he had run out of power, "you wouldn't dare risk your beloved Hawke now would you?"

But this redirection of Vist's attentions towards Fenris was the opening Hawke had been hoping for since they'd started. Gritting her teeth, she pulled at her own energies and pressed them harshly against the grips surrounding her mind. With one final pulse the magic burst outwards and snapped the blood mage's claim on her mind. Vist yelped, pulling his physical hand away as though burned and one of the cups on his alter cracked.

Hawke stood up, panting slightly with the effort, but entirely recovered from the mental assault.

Angrily, she moved to fling a fireball at him but a bolt whipped by her head, landing directly between Vist's eyes. Hawke swung around to see Varric at the edge of the stairwell holding Bianca tightly. Vist's body crumpled besides Fenris landing face first over an alter slick with crimson. Hawke felt the slow ebb of magic until the mage was dead.

"He talked too much," Varric shrugged, "see Hawke? You needed me. No matter how many fancy spells those magisters have they'll die just like anyone else with a well-placed bolt."

Hawke visibly relaxed. Leave it up to the charming dwarf to save the day. She'd expected a good ten minutes of flinging fireballs and fighting off hoards of demons while protecting the snotty nobles they'd shared a haunted dinner with. This was much more efficient.

"How did you get around the barrier?" she knitted her brow as she stood up, at a loss.

"I threw a really big rock at the doorframe. It might be a little, uh, broken but we should still be able to pass through it," Hawke shook her head, laughing.

A pristine blood magic barrier broken by the simple cave-man like application of a rock on a worn cobblestone frame. It sounded like some ludicrous tale from Varric's story but she was glad for it. At the far end of the room the nobles were slowly coming out of their shock and now eyed the group with tired expressions. Hawke caught sight of Fenris heading her way and Varric gave her a look of understanding.

"I'll appease the crowds Hawke, you console your broody elf," he grinned, heading over to the bunch.

Like children watching a parent the nobles instantly swarmed Varric hailing him and Hawke as their heroes. As the dwarf extracted information and explained the evening away Hawke was allowed to turn towards a familiar shout.

"Hawke!" Fenris yelled, pulling her in tightly as though at any moment she would slip away through his fingers like sand. The embrace was somewhat uncalled for but not at all unwelcomed. Hawke struggled to hold her staff as Fenris pressed her wind-swept hair with his hand.

"Well hello to you too! What's the occasion?" she sputtered, slightly winded from the hug.

Fenris held her tightly for a few more seconds before releasing her probably realizing how much he was compromising her windpipe at that moment in time. The mage guided her staff back into its proper non-combat position on her back and brushed a loose strand out of her face. There was a strange look on the elf's face, a certain vulnerability she rarely saw.

"I thought you-" he started but Hawke cut him off.

"No way, I was just waiting for the right moment to strike," she playfully pecked him on the lips, "now let's go home please. No more Tevinter mages or Orlesian parties for me for a long time."

The elf smiled, wrapping his hand around her shoulder as they ascended from the stale tomb into the even more unappealing graveyard. Outside the air was cleaner but just as dismal. In truth it was an awful place. More than anything Hawke couldn't wait to take a bath of less-questionable contents and settle into a deep, unrealistic slumber by the elf she loved.


	7. Resolutions

**CHAPTER SEVEN  
** ( Less Demons This Way )

"Well mother, there you are. Another grand affair where someone tried to kill me," Hawke sighed, holding the invitation. What she assumed was the invitation anyways.

They'd struggled to find it afterwards but when she looked on the desk where she'd placed the invitation only a blank piece of paper sat. Hawke imagined it was some form of self-erasing ink so that their planned disappearances would never be traced to the estate. She'd settled into something a little less combat worthy today, forgoing the thick plates of her battle mage armor for a simple jacket and form-fitting slacks.

As she held the blank sheet to the fire it began to bend under the pressure of the heat until the edges burned orange. Satisfied with the progress, Hawke tossed the paper into the fire where it was slowly engulfed in the flames. She spared a tiny thought for the ridiculous fantasy the desire demon had drummed up.

Bethany. Leandra. While she missed them dearly she knew the futility of dwelling on the dead. Though their deaths were tragic and not a single day went by where she didn't mull over what she could've done differently to save them, she knew they were gone forever. Alive only in her memories.

With one final glance at the crackling fire, Hawke stepped out of her room and walked over to the balcony where a familiar voice called up to her.

"Better not keep them waiting. You know how rowdy they can get," Fenris pointed out still wearing his usual armor.

It had only been a couple of days since the events of the party but already the thank you gifts and mail were gushing in like an unchecked stream. In fact the affair had only seemed to increase the number of invitations she received to exclusive parties. With the Champion of Kirkwall in attendance no blood mage could attack them, right? It was a messy affair overall.

Smiling, Hawke gathered her messy auburn hair into a ponytail and tied it loosely with the same ribbon she always used. Once she was at the bottom of the stairs she held out her hand in a mock posh gesture which Fenris readily accepted. Bodan bowed, praising the pair as Sandal clapped for them as they stepped out the door.

It was time to head out.

* * *

"So then I say to the Duke it's a shame they'll only be serving those tiny sausages this evening and he just stares at me for a minute before going beat red," Isabela smacked her mug down on the table, causing the liquid to pour over the side onto the table, "I never thought Orlesians were prudes!"

Merrill held her mug with two hands, leaning on every one of Isabela's words like she always did. She wore her usual elven garb, fur-lined shoulders with a thin chain mail over green fabrics but the rosy glow in her cheeks suggested that she'd been drinking more than she let on.

"What do sausages have to- oh, right," the elf colored a little and suddenly developed a fascination for the mug she held.

This sort of exposure didn't derail Isabela, who was having far too good a time to stop now. The pirate leaned in closer to the table, eyebrows raised in an excited expression as she delivered her next piece of juicy gossip.

"He spent the entire night looking at my chest and when I called him out on it the duchess slapped him square across the cheek!" the pirate laughed heartily then took a swig from her drink.

Anders quirked an eyebrow at her from the end of the table.

"So let me get this straight, all the nobles in the party were staring at your bosom? Even the women? Are a good pair of breasts that difficult to find in Orlais?" there was a hint of skepticism.

Isabela offered a hearty grin.

"A good pair no, these breasts yes! At one point even Hawke was eying them. They're quite impressive you know," she gestured with her mug.

"Maker's breath..." Aveline shook her head along with most of the table. Isabela's tales, while exciting, tended to be a bit more elaborate than even Varrics and much more self-important. As impressive as Isabela's cleavage was nobody would admit it to her for fear of never hearing the end of it.

Varric sat at the head of the table watching his friends talk with a content expression. When the door finally closed he instantly spotted Hawke and Fenris as they stepped into the Hanged Man. The entire pub, really only consisting of their party through some well placed bribes, erupted into drunken cheers.

"The lady of the hour! And her delicious man servant!" Isabela cried and raised her mug. The whole table practically tripped over each other trying to tag it with their own save Sebastian who didn't drink.

Hawke laughed and settled to Merrill's right, shifting over so that Fenris could sit on her other side. One of the bar staff leaned over to place two mostly full mugs in front of them as though on cue. They had never wanted for service at the Hanged Man though Hawke attributed it to the fact that Varric basically owned the place as this point and was incredibly fair to the workers.

Varric stood up, raising his hands so that everyone should quiet down.

"Truly the most scandalous story of the evening was the one of the Champion of Kirkwall and her steamy affair with my elf manservant! Imagine my surprise! Drink up friends!" there was another scramble to clink mugs that ended up in more ale on the table than in their mouths.

This time Hawke joined in, downing half the swill of her mug before she coughed. It never went down smoothly no matter how many times she pretended to enjoy it but it was the only decent establishment around. Though if certain nobles were asked it was also the dirtiest establishment around. Cleanliness was irrelevant however because to Hawke it wasn't about the place, it was about the people.

While she might have lost more than half of her family members just getting to this point she had gained a handful of priceless friends. Whatever dark occurrences loomed over her future Hawke was certain she could endure them with the help of the people before her. Fenris stood up, holding his hand up to the group in a gesture that suggested they should be quiet for a moment.

"Actually I heard the best rumor was that of your Lady Ildra and your chest hair," the elf held his serious expression in a way that even Varric had to be envious of.

Hawke snorted into her mug, hiding it by taking a larger sip than she would've liked. The dwarf puffed out his chest hair and Isabela, never missing a chance to push boundaries, ran a hand over it like it was a dog. Aveline smacked her hand away.

"No touching by order of the city guard," she was grinning wickedly though and her expression was returned by Isabela. Varric did his best to look hurt but was not so secretly laughing.

The usual conversations resumed but Hawke had begun to tune them all out and instead reached for Fenris's hand underneath the table. She weaved her fingers in between his and gave them a squeeze. Still holding a conversation with Sebastian, Fenris returned her gesture with his own squeeze and she settled for idly tracing the lyrium outline on the outside of his hand while half-listening to the continued discussion about Varric's chest hair.

Several rounds later Merrill sat propped up in the corner, Isabela tickling her with a stray hair strand. Every time Merrill twitched she giggled like a school girl. Both Sebastian and Aveline had already left, likely due to the presence of their early-morning duties.

Varric and Anders chatted with one of the tavern girls and Hawke thought for sure she heard the word chest hair... again. Hawke had given up pretending that she wasn't holding Fenris's hand and lazily propped herself up with her free hand while holding his above the table. Beside the elf lay a half-full mug but she could tell that he was done drinking by the fatigue pulling at his eyes.

It had been a long couple of days babysitting Knight Commander Meredith and tracking down supposed 'apostates' that had 'run away' from the circle. While it was becoming increasingly clear to Hawke that the woman was insane she was sure the only way she could protect her fellow mages was by 'assisting' the woman and steadily negating the harm thatshe did.

But how long could one temper crazy? Being a mage herself didn't exactly help. One day Hawke was certain Meredith's ire would turn on her but that day, thankfully, wasn't any day soon. As the conversation drummed around them, Hawke decided to ask a question that had been sitting strangely with her.

"What did you really dream about?" she finally asked.

He had said a nightmare at the time but Hawke had quickly put two and two together. Desire demons gave their victims dreams of desires, not fear. They kept their victims trapped in a waking nightmare of the things they wanted most in life. When it was broken victims often wished to go back into the bliss less ignorance like an addict craving a drug. Of course the demon that had entrapped her hadn't been the best at it: for one she had left out Fenris. Secondly, Bethany's romance stories had always started off with a dashing rogue and ended with their travel to an exotic land not some posh noble. Lastly there was no way that Gamlen would've ever been so posh or committed to not spending his entire fortune gambling.

"You always see right through me Hawke," he admitted, "if you must know I was dreaming of you."

Hawke sat up a little, resting her head on her chin so that she didn't sink down further out of tiredness. A long week plus liquor plus a late hour almost always ended in her snoozing over a table or some unfortunate open book. A loud crackle sounded from the hearth beside them as one of the serving girls threw another log into it.

"Mmm, does dream me not steal the covers from you then?" she inquired with a sly expression.

Fenris chuckled.

"She still did but now that you mention it she might have snored," he teased, provoking a sharpened glance from Hawke.

The champion ran her thumb down the bend of Fenris's wrist and the elf smiled. When they had first started dating Varric had taken her aside under the suspicion that Fenris was under the thrall of a blood mage, he never smiled like that! Of course it was all an elaborate joke to get her to confess to her relationship but the dwarf did make a fine point. Even Anders had to agree that being with Hawke had made Fenris much more approachable. For non mages anyways. It was hard to unravel a lifetime of mage prejudice.

"Thank goodness it was just a dream. I'd hate to be known for my bear-like snoring," Hawke said sarcastically.

"Snoring or not it was a dream I wouldn't have woken up from without you," Fenris admitted.

"Well, you know, I do what I can to crush dreams and all," she quipped back.

Fenris furrowed his brow.

"That's not what I meant Hawke," he protested.

"Ah, you mean you're glad to have a perverted mage to rescue you from demon-laden dreams," Hawke attempted again, this time unable to hide her playful expression.

Fenris groaned.

"Not that either. You have this incredibly vexing talent of making me saying nice things about you really difficult, you know that?" he quirked his eyebrow.

"It's conditioning from years of chasing my younger brother down after he nailed Bethany's braid to the headboard, I kind of expect the worst," this drew another eyebrow raise and then a laugh from Hawke.

Sadly enough this was a true story.

"What I meant to say is that this is where I belong Hawke. Right here with you no matter what the universe throws our way," the elf finally admitted.

Hawke leaned in and kissed him straight on the mouth. She knew he'd been trying to say something of the sort but it had been too delicious to allow him to say it so easily. If any of their companions noticed their public display of affection they didn't say anything. It was more likely they were also caught up in their own world. As she settled her chin back on her hands she offered a sarcastic but content expression.

"Demon-possessed mansions run by Tevinter magisters included of course," she grinned then gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, "don't worry, this is where I belong too. Just next time, maybe make it a little easier for me to get here."

Fenris smiled then shook his head. Now all they had to do was unite Kirkwall by ousting the Knight Commander and solving the rising mage-templar tensions among the populace.

It would be easy, for sure.


End file.
